


Why We Fight

by SupernaturalPhoenix



Category: RWBY
Genre: Character studies, Faunas Oobleck, Gen, I'm Sorry, Please Forgive me, headcannons, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalPhoenix/pseuds/SupernaturalPhoenix
Summary: My headcannons on why Port, Oobleck and Goodwitch became Huntsmen.





	1. Peter Port

Peter Port had everything. A good home, a loving family. Parents who adored him- kind, but firm when needed. Though in his later years, he would think of himself as a spoilt child. Just a little too arrogant. Some might even say pompous. But he was kind and had a large circle of friends.

Huntsmen were the noblest of heroes. And that was what attracted Peter; the adventure, the grandeur, the honor. He fell in love. He daydreamed in the summer sun of being the reliable defender of his small outlying village, protecting the people who couldn't protect themselves. He was only 12 years old when he got the chance.

A lone Beowolf was plaguing the town. It devoured their livestock and destroyed as much property as it could before they could drive it away. Peter had the perfect idea on how to catch it, but the grownups just wouldn't listen to him! They said he was 'too young' and 'didn't need to worry about such things'. It made Peter furious that no one would hear what he said.

But a true Huntsman would never let such an obstacle stop them. And Peter wanted to be a true Huntsman more than anything in the world. He went to his grandfather for advice. He said, "Come now my boy. Sometimes in life, we must have the courage to do what we think is right- even if others don't see it." Peter took those he ran off on his own; used his cunning and tenacity and caught the beast.

His father laughed and slung Peter up on his shoulders and the town called him a hero. In all his years, Peter never forget that moment. The pride, the triumph, knowing he had done good. He loved it. It was a warmth resting in his chest and he longed to feel it again. So he worked and trained and got into Beacon.

Many, many years later, lying in bed with the overly caffeinated love of his life in his arms, Peter felt he could truly call himself a true Huntsman.


	2. Bartholomew Oobleck

Bartholomew Oobleck barely remembered where he came from. He was only four and 3 quartres when his parents saw the danger in staying in their home city and fled to Vale. It would be known as Mountain Glenn, but Bartholomew would always think of it as home. It was where he was happy, where his family was together and safe. Bartholomew was 6 years old when his parents died in a terrible car crash. A devastated Bartholomew, left with no one else in the world, was sent into the care system. A system where nobody cared about him at all.

Maybe it was because of the emerald feathers on his forearms, maybe it was his anti- social disposition, maybe it was something else. Bouncing from foster home to foster home, Bartholomew lamented the loss of everything good in his life. Until he was 8 years old. Then his life got worse. One warm, early Fall afternoon, when Bartholomew was walking home from school, a huge brute of a man grabbed him and hauled him into a van.

After that, Bartholomew's life turned into a living hell. Locked inside garage on the outskirts of Vale with a snake girl named Lucia, they were held captive just for being Faunas. They didn't know his name, but he called them 'filthy animals' who didn't deserve human rights.

He starved the children and tortured them by removing their Faunas traits. Bartholomew's feathers were ripped from his skin, and watched as Lucia's scales were pulled from hers and her fangs were snapped.

 _He_ claimed he was purging them of the animal natures that poisoned them. But all it was torture. Bartholomew and Lucia suffered every day for two years until they were discovered.

Lucia was returned to the loving arms of her family, but Bartholomew was sentenced to the foster system yet again. Barely talking to anyone, Bartholomew was lost and alone. It felt like he was just waiting for the next big tragedy to strike him down even lower- until he wouldn’t be able to climb up again. Little ten year old Bartholomew sank into a depression that no one could pull him out of. 

He was sent to see a therapist, Miss Asteri; a young woman with silvery hair and a gentle smile that rested deep in her amethyst eyes. She was the only one who cared about Bartholomew. The only one who listened, who didn’t criticise him for being who he was. Instead she tried to help him make his life better. She taught him history- and how important it was. And she gave Bartholomew a new passion in life. And for a little while, Bartholomew thought he was going to be alright.

He was wrong.

When Bartholomew was twelve years old, Miss Asteri was killed by Grimm during a visit to family outside of Vale. Bartholomew was devastated. His only friend was gone. He was alone again. 

But Miss Asteri achieved one last thing: leaving Bartholomew with a goal in life. He was going to become a Huntsman. 

Against all odds, he enrolled at Signal Academy and set his sights on one day attending Beacon Academy. He trained and pushed himself past all his limits. He discovered his gift for speed and the beauty of caffeine. And it all payed off. Bartholomew was accepted into Beacon. 

He was given teammates to work with and fight alongside. It was a comfort, and his team became great friends. However, Bartholomew could never bring himself to tell them about his past. He answered their questions with vague half truths. He always kept his arms covered so they didn’t see the scars his feathers left behind.

Until his second year, when a news report listed the death of Lucia Anguis- suicide. For a moment he couldn’t remember why the name was so familiar, or why it struck him so deeply. And then it hit him like plunging into a frigid ocean; _Lucia._ It seemed she had never recovered from their ordeal and it had haunted her for nearly a decade before- until the trauma eventually drove her to end her life.

Bartholomew found his way to the roof and crumbled, trying to deal with the loss of the only person who truly understood his suffering. Everything he could have done circled his head like vicious vultures. He could have stayed in contact with her, reached out and ultimately kept her alive. But he didn’t. And now she was gone.

A fourth year student found Bartholomew there in a puddle of his own tears. He had been drawn by the desperate sobs he heard from his dorm window and pulled the distraught boy into his arms. Bartholomew clutched his companion tightly, crying into his chest. Even though they had never met. The fourth year was a tangible shield against the depression slowly creeping up on Bartholomew again. He cried until he was spent, and then the fourth year carried him back to his dorm room and put him to bed. He was found there some time later by his worried teammates who had been looking for him frantically after his disappearance. Bartholomew didn’t tell them what happened. He thought about that fourth year many times but didn’t see him again. And when his third year rolled around, he put it out of his mind entirely.

But Lucia’s death spurred Bartholomew forwards. If he was the only survivor of their shared torment, then he would achieve enough in life for the both of them. He started working towards a PhD while still training to become a Huntsman. He strived towards Faunas equality, even though everyone assumed he was human. Trying to explain was still too painful, so Bartholomew always attempted to leave it ambiguous as to his species.

And then he graduated Beacon. He was a Huntsman at last. He settled in Vale and took on local missions, while still working on his PhD. It was a lot of work, and many times, Bartholomew felt like he was drowning and wanted to give up. But he was stubborn and determined to make something good of his life. Through sheer perseverance alone, Bartholomew was rewarded his PhD and became a respected Huntsman in the community.

That was when Professor Ozpin approached Bartholomew about taking over the History position at Beacon. It was like a dream come true for Bartholomew- it was a chance to really use his mind to help people. Of course he took it.

Bartholomew settled into Beacon easily. Teaching came naturally to him and he proved to be a vital part of the staff.

And then he met Peter Port. They became friends quickly and easily. They became quite the pair and were sent on several missions together. Soon enough, they were almost inseparable. And then Bartholomew realised that they had met before, just once, many years before.

”It was you... on the roof...”

Of course Peter remembered the younger boy he had held through his tears one cold night. Once again, he took Bartholomew into his arms and held him close. This time, however, their lips pressed together in a soft gentle motion. 

Peter became the only one to know all of Bartholomew’s secrets and hurts. And he loved his Barty all the more for it.

And Barty finally had something to shine in his life.


	3. Glynda Goodwitch

Glynda North lived a lonely childhood. She lived on the outskirts of Vale, in a protected suburb. She went to school, did her work with her head down, sat alone on the playground and went home again. She would creep into the house to avoid her father's sharp, biting words, berating her for being too loud. She would stand and take it, her eyes cast down before escaping to her bedroom.

Then her mother would sneak into her room to give her hug. Amethyst North was a beautiful woman with blonde curls and tired green eyes. She was Glynda's best - and only- friend in the world. They understood each other easily. They could communicate without words.

Glynda loved her. 

Her mother was everything to Glynda, and Glynda was everything to Amethyst. Though she hated herself for sentencing them both to the miserable existence they shared, she could not resent it completely: for it had given her Glynda. Amethyst often dreamed of a life where they could be free. But it was only just a dream. She knew the two of them would never make it in the outside world. She had married Frank young- 18, just barely out of school- and had no real experience in the world. She would never be able to support a seven year old girl. And Frank had connections: he would always find them. Amethyst wasn’t going to put Glynda through that. If she could just keep Glynda safe until she turned 18, then Glynda would be able to leave. She would be safe and away from her father’s tyranny.

Frank stormed through the house, footsteps like clasps of thunder. The door of Glynda’s room burst open and he marched inside, bellowing about her recently failed spelling test. In truth, it had been his yelling that distracted her from learning the words. But Frank didn’t care; he had a little excess frustration to work off. Sweeping his arm back, he backhanded his daughter across the face. He screamed insults at her, grabbing Amethyst by the hair, cursing her for their useless daughter. 

Eventually he’d get bored and would stop back to his chair again. Glynda would crawl into her mother’s lap with a trembling lip and tears coursing down her face. She had learned from a painfully young age that silent tears were all she was allowed to cry. Amethyst would rock her quietly, her own eyes glistening. But Amethyst could never cry at all. There were no comforts, no soothing words she could give, so they’d sit together in silence until Amethyst would remind Glynda to heal.

Glynda was the only child she knew with an active aura. Sometimes her classmates would talk about it, Glynda knew some of their parents had aura, but none of them had it themselves. She didn’t think it was normal. But then again, she had begun to realise that her relationship with her father wasn’t normal either.

Amethyst suspected it was all the pain that Glynda went through on a regular basis that had awakened her aura. She had never heard of anything like that happening, but she couldn’t research it or ask for help. Frank hated aura and anything to do with it. The only reason he allowed Glynda to use hers was because it meant he could hit her where he liked and never have to worry about leaving a mark. It hurt her so much to see her daughter treated like that, but Glynda's aura was one of the few things she could be thankful for.

Or so she thought.

Glynda was 10 years old when her father murdered her mother. Glynda didn't know why, but she heard the screams. She crept from her bedroom to see her father holding her mother by the hair, knife in hand. Both were screaming and yelling, but Glynda couldn't hear over the blood pounding in her ears.

The knife arced up and into Amethyst's chest. Her screams were silenced; only to be replaced by Glynda's howls. The crimson blood poured from Amethyst's chest as Glynda stared into her lifeless eyes. Glynda couldn't even hear her own agonised wails, the pain ripping through her heart blocking off the power that was building within her until it exploded.

There was a flash of purple light and the knife was flung from Frank's hand and embedded in the wall. The room was crushed by the heavy silence that descended, interrupted only by Frank and Glynda's harsh breathing. Frank stared at his daughter with eyes wide with horror.

"You... you _witch_..." he spat venomously. He stepped over Amethyst's body and stalked towards Glynda.

Glynda's heart was beating like a drum and she skittered backwards until she hit the wall. She cowered away, shaking uncontrollably. Then everything went black.

Glynda woke up tucked in bed like her mother used to do. The tears in her heart opened up as the memories of the previous night hit her like a freight train. She curled up as the tears started to fall and silently cried for everything she had lost.

Life without Amethyst was even more hellish for Glynda. The purple light and the moving knife was her semblance. But her father had someone come while Glynda was unconcious to put up... protections that kept Glynda from using her semblance. It hurt. It was an energy thrumming in her bones and it ached to be free. But she just couldn't let go. The only way she could use her semblance was when her father left home and she could escape into the forest and practice. 

She wanted so badly to just... leave. To run away and never look back. But she can’t. As clever and quick witted as Glynda is, she is barely eleven years old: she would never survive on her own. And even if she did, Frank would find her. She didn’t know what her father’s ‘job’ actually was, but she knew he had powerful, dangerous friends. 

But soon Glynda realised she had her own power. Glynda was not a vain person but she knew her semblance was powerful- more so than any other she had heard of. It was a tool she could use. She just needed to figure out how. She wanted so badly for her mother’s guidance. Amethyst’s loss was deep wound, as if it had been Glynda who was stabbed. Some days Glynda felt so numb; like life just didn’t matter anymore. Sometimes she felt like a ghost, trapped for eternity. But then she would think of her mother, think of living for her- it wouldn’t wake Glynda up, but it did push her to try and keep trying.

Using her semblance made her feel alive. The thrill, the heady rush of power. Sometimes it felt like the only thing she lived for.

And then she strayed to far from home and saw her first Grimm. It was huge, dark and canine like; with bone like armour and hungry, blood red eyes. She ducked behind a tree, eyes wide and staring. She was frozen. But not with fear. With awe. Then with a tiny grunt, the Grimm’s head separated from its neck and dropped to the floor. A woman stood there, sword in hand.

Glynda gave a silent gasp. A Huntress. The huntress didn’t see Glynda in her hiding place, instead disappearing into the forest. Running home, Glynda realised what she wanted to do with her life.

That Huntress- however inadvertently- had been the first person to protect Glynda in a long time. Glynda had made up her mind: she was going to be a Huntress and protect others. As soon as she got home, she started researching. 

Keeping it safely from her father’s knowledge, Glynda learned everything she could about Beacon Academy: the training grounds of Huntsmen. But she couldn’t wait until she was seventeen to leave. She couldn’t live with her father’s beatings for almost five years. Signal. If she went to Signal, she could leave in just a year and a half, when she was thirteen.

Glynda had made up her mind.

She waited; biding her time. The cuts and the bruises rained down on her still. That did not stop. But now, Glynda had a dream to keep her going. Her twelfth birthday came and went uncelebrated as usual. But it was another step towards Signal. As soon as she could send in her application, she did, with the neatest handwriting humanly possible. She made absolute certain her father didn't see. Since he killed her mother, he was rarely home. Glynda wasn't sure if it was worse than his constant lurking when she was little. But it left him with no choice but to watch her leave.

Frank was terrified of Glynda's semblance. All it took was a burst of lilac to make him cringe out of her way. Once she was out of the house, her semblance was free and unconstrained. There was just one last thing she had to do. The flowers rustled slightly in the breeze, almost as though Amethyst was whispering goodbye. The purple flowers covered the mound where her mother rested.

Glynda's eyes welled with tears as she murmured her goodbyes, with pleas of forgiveness. She spoke everything she'd never been able to; her guilt, her sorrow, anger and sadness. But most of all, she spoke of love. When her heart was poured, she cast one last smile as she walked away for the last time.

She swore she could hear her mother murmur goodbye.

Glynda took a bus into the main city of Vale to find her arranged lodgings. Despite appearences, Amethyst had a decent bank account, which she'd entrusted to Glynda before she died. It was those funds which Glynda used to pay for a room. The landlady was kind and didn't ask Glynda why she was alone. She even dropped the price of Glynda's room for her.

At Signal, Glynda soon became the star student. She was intelligent and excelled at her studies. She threw herself into her training. Hand to hand, semblance control. Her weapon was a basic pair of daggers. She had little interest in them, but she needed to pass the class: and forging them herself felt good. But it was her semblance she was most interested in. It was powerful and attracted the attention of many teachers. However her social skills were... some what lacking, but the solitude never bothered her.

She moved on from Signal, still top her class. She passed the Beacon entrance exam with flying colours, was made team leader and once again became a star student. Having a team ,though, helped Glynda develop her social skills. But as much as she cared for her team, she kept her past secret.

Glynda graduated Beacon with top honors and moved on to Vale. She quickly became a renown Huntress, well known for her extraordinary semblance. After a few years, she'd built up quite the reputation. And that was when Ozpin extended the offer of the combat teacher position. She instantly accepted. She loved her missions, but the chance to help students was her joy. She saw a way to help students out of situations like hers.

Like she had during her school years, she rose through the ranks and eventually became Ozpin's deputy. And she had helped many students through difficult home lives. The other teachers knew that if they recognised the signs, to send them to Glynda. It warmed her heart to know that she could help.

Sometimes Glynda thought about her father, wondered where he was. She hadn't seen him since she was thirteen years old. He called her a witch. Maybe she was. But it was that which made her remember something.

Her mother's maiden name.

She hadn't been Glynda North for years. Everything of value she'd ever done, she'd done as someone else.

She was Glynda Goodwitch.


End file.
